


And Not The Next Day

by WintryGooseball



Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintryGooseball/pseuds/WintryGooseball
Summary: Asil had come here to die, but he hadn't expected the method of execution to be boredom.





	And Not The Next Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrikate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrikate/gifts).



Asil sat in a chair in front of a fire. He contemplated the flames in front of him silently, as he thought of the many years that had brought him to this path. 

"If I'd known I would be entertaining the Moor today, I would've prepared a better welcoming committee." Bran entered the room, closing the door behind him. To prevent anyone from seeing the bloodshed that followed, Asil thought bitterly. He shook his head to shoo off the stray thought. He had come here to die. He would not begrudge the Marrok’s attempts to spare his people a view of violence.

"I know my son informed you that I was coming." His voice was flat, terse. He had come here to die - he felt no need to participate in idle small talk. His son would not have sent him over to invade any wolf's territory, let alone the Marrok’s. Bran had been told he was coming, possibly before Asil himself was told. 

Asil heard Bran walk past him farther into the room and sit at his desk, but he didn't speak. It became clear after a period of silence that Bran was not going to provide him with a response until Asil acknowledged him further. He turned his body away from the crackling fire to see the other man. Bran had his head propped up on one of his hands, regarding Asil with his full attention. Neither his posture nor his expression were aggressive nor challenging, his casual body language not conveying any of the dominance that allowed him to keep power over an entire continent of wolves. Bran was not actively expressing dominance, but the mere fact of the extended eye contact made his wolf want to bare his teeth and growl in challenge. Asil was tired enough from the trip to almost let his wolf have its way, but he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, centering himself around the smell of the leather of the chairs and the crackling fire. 

When he opened eyes again, Bran was still looking at him, posture and expression unchanged. This time Asil locked his eyes on Bran's chin, avoiding the direct eye that riled up his wolf. Of course, the mild deference implied in the lowering of his eyes did not please the wolf, but Asil knew a wilier predator when he saw one, no matter what his wolf wanted to do. Given a few more minutes of the silent treatment from the Marrok, his decision-making process might align more closely with that of the wolf. 

After several more minutes of silence, Asil snapped "When I agreed to come here to be killed, I did not expect the method of execution to be boredom." 

Bran merely hummed in response. Asil waited for a beat but got no further answer from the man. He felt his wolf's desire to test his will against that of the irritating man in front of him very keenly. He felt less and less motivated to tamp down that impulse by the second. 

Finally, he lost patience and gritted out "Why are you taunting me?" through his teeth.

Bran hummed again. "I'm waiting for this rabid old wolf I've been warned about to go for my throat at the slightest provocation."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

"And yet here I sit, unscathed."

Asil pondered his own motives for a moment. A few centuries ago, if someone had been this rude to him he might very well have decided that a physical confrontation was all that would satisfy his wolf's need to prove his dominance, but today he viewed the wolf's desire for violence as an annoyance to be suppressed. He tried to articulate. "I…. tire of violence. It gets rather dreary after a few millennia."

"I'm not in the business of executing wolves still well enough to decide for themselves that violence is beneath them."

“You must do it, and soon.” His son was not a defeatist. He would not send him here to die unless it was the only possible option.

"What makes you think you know better than me, to whose judgment you were sent to face?" 

"Far be it from me to doubt your sterling judgment, but you aren’t living in my head! I’m one provocation away from violence!" 

Bran sighed, his body language not betraying any tension from the confrontation between them. "Aren't we all, my friend, aren't we all."

"I am not safe for those around me!” Asil did not understand what Bran was trying to accomplish with his dryly teasing words. “Do I need to beg you to be put down like a dog? This cannot go a day further." 

"No." Bran pushed his chair back and stood. "I will not kill you today. And perhaps not the next, either. There is a house down the street. Sage is downstairs; she'll show you to it."

"No!"

Bran raised an eyebrow. "Have you an objection to Sage? I can send you with another wolf."

"No, my objection'' he echoed Bran's word usage with a savage growl, "is to the fact that you are sending a wolf a hair-trigger away from violence amongst your flock." 

This time when Bran spoke, his words were imbued with the dominance that kept him in charge over all the wolves of North America. "You will go with Sage to the house. Stay there until the morning. I will hear no further arguments from you today."

His wolf allowed him no further protest, so he simply tilted his chin the smallest possible angle downwards and stood.

As he moved toward the door, Bran had one parting statement for him. "There's a greenhouse behind the house, with some rose clippings I hear are world-renowned. Perhaps that will keep you occupied for a while."

Asil froze and stared back at him for a moment. Bran's face was unreadable. He turned back towards the door and walked downstairs before the interaction could get any more confusing.

When he reached the entrance room, the too-bright she-wolf who had pointed him in the direction of Bran’s study was waiting for him. Sage, he told himself. So had Bran called her. When she saw his face, she laughed. Asil glared at her, still on edge from his confrontation with the Marrok. 

She saw his irritation but was undaunted. "Nothing, nothing." She chuckled again. "It's just that your expression showed exactly how it feels to be stonewalled by our Bran." She glanced back at him as she led him out the front door. "It looks like he's decided to keep you, so you get to look forward to many more instances of getting denied what you ask for."

Sage led him to a car and drove him down the street to his new residence. After he opened the unlocked door and made his way through the fully furnished home, and as he stood in the greenhouse granted him by Bran, he laughed for what might have been the first time in decades. The wily old wolf had hunted down cuttings and full plants of the rose strains related to those he had sent off to other gardeners in the past. 

Asil put on the gloves very conveniently placed next to the roses, took up the spade next to them, and got to work. After all, if Bran was as stubborn as he seemed, it looked like he would be here for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy!


End file.
